Westin (The Sovereign Mountain, #2)

by Raya Morris Edwards

“Just promise you won’t do anything to me?” I say. “What?” “Promise you’re not going to kidnap me and tie me up or something.”

“I can’t promise you both of those things,” he says. My mouth is dust dry. “You want to kidnap me?” He shakes his head. “No, darling, I won’t kidnap you.” Heat rushes through me. “You want to…tie me up?” I whisper.

“Have you ever been kissed, Miss Carter?”

“Come here,”

“I hope you weren’t saving that first kiss for anyone, Miss Carter,” I say quietly. “Because I think it’s mine.”

“I need to touch you, kiss you…be inside you. God, girl, I feel like I’m fucking dying.”

“Wait,” I gasp. He’s not listening. Those piercing eyes are locked between my legs. I squirm, uncomfortable with being inspected so closely. “Be a good girl,” he says, flicking his eyes up to mine. “Stay right there, darling.” “You’re staring at me,” I manage. “You’ve got the prettiest cunt I’ve ever seen. Of course I’m staring.”

There’s something so deliciously dirty about being in bed, in the middle of the afternoon, with a man’s head between my legs.

“I want to touch every place on your body that makes you feel good, darling.”

“What do you want most in the whole world?” I ask, staring up at the ceiling. He rumbles in his chest, leaning his head back against the wall. “What you just gave me.”

“I’d like to see you again.” I swallow. “Um…do you think we’re moving too fast?” I whisper. He shakes his head once, not hesitating. “I’ve never been surer about wanting to get to know somebody. If you want me to fuck off, Diane, you’ll have to shoot me.” I laugh weakly. He smiles, and I touch his face, enjoying the prickle of his beard. “I kinda like you,” I whisper. His lids flicker as his throat bobs. “I more than kinda like you.” I bite my lip. “Too much, too soon, Mr. Quinn,” I say, trying to make it into a joke. I mean it a little bit, though. “I don’t care,” he says, voice hoarse. “What kind of flowers do you like, darling?”

I’ve gotten a taste of that little blonde Carter girl, and now, I’m hungry. God, no. I’m starving.

Her eyes drop to my hand. “Are those…lilies?” She bites her lip, her cheeks blushing pink. I snap one of the blossoms off and tuck it behind her ear. We’re both quiet, and I swear I hear our hearts beat in tandem.

“Are you trying to romance me?” she whispers. “I’m just trying to make you feel special,” I say. “To make up for fucking you like a whore in a little while.”

“Do you need me, darling? Did it get you wet, thinking about being fucked?”

“Do you want to come, darling?” “Yes,” she breathes. “Beg and be nice about it,” I order. She falters, and I can’t keep back a smile. “I know you can be sweet,” I say. “You’re not all sass. I know there’s a good girl in there who can be sweet and beg for it.”

Westin moves until he’s right before me, not caging me in but still reminding me what he’s capable of. That he likes to call me a whore, tie me to his steering wheel, and fuck me hard.

“Oh God,” she gasps. “Just me,” I say. “Just me and you, darling.”

When she comes, my fingers inside her, a soft gush of arousal drips from my knuckles. I pull them free and lick them clean.

Of course I like blowjobs, and I’d do a lot to get one from her, but I also like rough sex. I like degradation and choking and spanking. I don’t want to slip up and give that to her before she’s ready.

“You can go a little harder,” she whispers. “I’m okay.” I lift my brows. She cocks her head. “Harder, please,” she says. “Sir.”

“Did you swallow?” She shakes her head. “Show me,” I order. Hesitantly, she puts her tongue out. My cum sits on it, pooled in the dip in the middle. I’m still rock hard, and my cock throbs at the sight. “Jesus fucking Christ, you’re a dirty slut,” I breathe. “Swallow it.”

She moans, and I come hard, emptying everything I have into her pussy. No condom in sight. We both go still.

My mother used to say I bottle things up, that I’d be healthier if I just talked to people, but I’m my father’s son through and through. I don’t want to fucking talk it out. I want to shoot Garrisons. Or David Carter, unless I can find something worse to do to him.

“Fuck, you need this,” I gasp. “No,” she whimpers, eyes meeting mine, big and brown beneath those heavy lids. “I needed you.”

“Good girl,” I pant. “Make yourself come on my cock, darling.” “Oh God,” she breathes. “Westin.” My hips meet hers, thrusting up into her body. “Go on, come for me,” I urge. “Let it out.”

I grip my cock at the base and push the head into her soft, hot mouth. Then, carefully, I let the whiskey flow down my stomach. It gathers in the ridge down the center of my abs, down over my groin, and follows the curve of my cock until it spills into her mouth. Her throat bobs as she drinks it down. I give her a little more. She swallows like a good slut. The excess spills from her lips and down the valley between her breasts.

“You’re my whore,” I pant. “You’ve always been my whore, from the fucking first moment I met you.”

“I can’t put my name on you,” he says, cocking his head. “If I could, I’d make good on my threat to brand your ass. But that doesn’t mean I can’t put my name in you.”

The ball gag moves over my clit in slow circles. My mouth starts salivating as soon as I start thinking about it, but I don’t pull my tongue back. It drips down between my breasts. He licks it off my skin.

“I want you to be mine,” he says. “I’m going to get you back, Diane, and then I’m going to put a collar around your neck and keep you forever.”

“That was….” I brush her hair back and pull it free from the braid. “You were perfect,” I tell her. She bites her lip. “I was loud,” she whispers. “Of course you were,” I say. “You were getting put through my mattress. I’d be disappointed if you weren’t.”

I can’t tell if I want to cry or come or both.

Then, he spanks me, hard enough that I yelp. “Do not struggle,” he says. “Hold still and be a good girl for me. You may cry if you need to.”

“You don’t go to church, Ryder,” I say. He cocks his head. “Maybe I do.” “Do you get hit by lightning every time you walk in?”

“That’s a good girl,” he says. “Come, you beautiful slut.”

Her face fills out first, and then her body follows. At some point, she went from being underweight to soft with gentle curves. Her breasts are full and teardrop shaped. They fit so well in my hands. Her hips and thighs fill out until they shake when I fuck her on her hands and knees.

Sovereign clears his throat and leans back. “I was hoping you’d marry us, Westin,” he says. “Polygamy’s not legal in Montana,” I say. “You’ll have to take turns.”

“I have a few things to tie up tonight,” I say. “Then I’ll be back to tie you up.”

“Sir,” she gasps. “You’re alright, darling,” I say gently. “Be a good girl and have another.”

I take a slow sip of whiskey, rolling it on my tongue. Her eyes flutter shut. “No. Eyes on me while you come,” I order.

“What are you, Diane?” I ask. I feel myself slipping deep into our dynamic. She’s already there, big eyes glassy. “I don’t know, sir,” she gasps. “You’re a toy,” I say flatly. “For me to play with.” Her lips tremble. “Say it,” I order, tapping my finger on the edge of the glass. “Repeat what I said. All of it.” I rise, towering over her, and tilt her chin up. Her eyes are wet, her mouth swollen from being bitten. “I’m a toy for you to play with,” she whispers, face flushing.

“Good toys shut their little mouths and do as they’re told. If I want you to come until you pass out, you will. Understood?” Her throat bobs. “Yes, sir.” My thumb plays with her lower lip. “What are you good for?” “Taking your cock, sir,” she whispers. “Good girl,” I praise. “You’re all for me. Your mouth, your pussy, your ass… I haven’t fucked you there yet. I think I will tonight.”

Her head falls back as she comes so hard, she stops breathing. It’s distracting enough that she doesn’t see me slip the crystal glass between her thighs. She doesn’t know she releases in a short gush that fills it a third of the way. My brain buzzes. My entire body tingles.

cuffs. I rise, taking the glass and bolting the first half, letting the taste of my wife spread over my tongue, drip down my throat, course through my veins.

I set the glass aside, take her jaw in my hand to part her lips, and spit her into her own mouth. Our eyes lock. She knows what I did. Then, her throat bobs, and she swallows everything I gave her. “Fuck, darling,” I say. “That’s my good girl.”

“That tight little cunt,” he murmurs. “Tucked between your thighs. Fucking Christ, it’s my weakness. You’re just so pretty, so soft. Every part of you.”